


dance me to the end of love

by mihael_jeevas



Category: Gundam 00
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossdressing, M/M, dance!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihael_jeevas/pseuds/mihael_jeevas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tieria doesn't know how to dance and Neil thinks it's vital he learns. Season two, episode eight AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dance me to the end of love

“Do you even know how to dance?” It only occurs to him once they’re on the surface, crammed in a shitty motel and waiting for the stupid party. The fact that the safety of the world and the security of Celestial Being hangs on a _ball_ is still amusing to Neil, but he goes along with it. It’s his job, after all, and there’s no way in hell he’s going to miss the sight of Tieria fucking Erde in a dress. 

Said person looks up from the dress in his lap. He’s been picking at it for hours and it is, in Neil’s humble opinion, in no way sexy enough for its wearer. “I’m familiar with the concept,” he says finally.

Neil smiles. It’s just as he suspected. “That,” he says. “Is a no.”

Tieria glares. It’s amazing how rare that expression has become between the two of them, save for that period where Tieria wanted to throw him into space for the whole ‘faking your death’ thing. “My plan was to … adapt to the situation.”

“And that is so not how it works. “ Neil rises from the bed (the look on the receptionist’s face when he loudly demanded a king instead of twins was worth the punch Tieria drove into his shoulder in the elevator) and stands in front of Tieria with his hand open and out.

Tieria stares at him as if there’s poison in Neil’s palm. “What exactly are you doing?”

“I thought it was obvious.” 

“It is obvious. That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

“I’m going to teach you to dance.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit. I know you want to. As you should, because I happen to be a fantastic dancer.”

“Has anyone actually told you that or are you just being arrogant?” 

“Just for that you _have_ to dance with me. Resistance is futile, on your feet.”

As expected, there’s a lot of sighing and eye-rolling, but Tieria finally does get up and slide his hand into Neil’s. It’s warm and dry, delicate fingers hesitantly linking with his, and Neil’s glad, not for the first time, that no one else sees Tieria like this. Nobody else should know that under the cold, hard layers is something breakable and painfully human. Red eyes stare up at him, unsure and impatient. “Shouldn’t there be music?”

Neil fishes a remote out of his pocket and flips on the broken down radio by the bed. The music is slow and deep and so old neither of them can place it. Vaguely Neil remembers hearing sounds similar to this as a boy, the kind of things his mother sung while she cooked. Once he caught her and his father dancing late at night after a few glasses of wine and their children were supposed to be asleep in bed. The memories don’t make him so sad or angry anymore. The pain’s dulled now that he has Lyle again. His near death experience also helps, as does the warm body currently curling into his.

“It’s lovely,” Tieria notes and gets that faraway look he always does when something new, something human catches his attention. It’s amazing to watch him try to understand their world, to take the pieces and break them down and put it all back together again. But it’s even more beautiful to show him again and again life can’t be quantified. 

Sometimes Neil thinks he lives to sweep Tieria off his feet. This is one of those moments. He has to clear the knot in his throat to speak. “Yeah, it is. But as much I like holding hands with you, dancing involves moving.”

“Fine, you start, then.”

“Well, first we have to get into position.” Tieria raises an eyebrow. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You are the only reason my mind has ever ‘been in a gutter.’” 

Neil grins. “Damn right I am. But what I mean is this.” He takes Tieria’s free hand and places it on his shoulder before winding one of his around Tieria’s waist.  


“If you’re making me the female partner in this I will kick you.”

“Not for nothing, but you _are_ attending this shindig in a dress.” True to his word, Tieria drives his foot into Neil’s leg. “Hey! It’s just easier for me to lead, and may I add it was your idea to go in drag?”

“It was a _strategic move_."

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to the Ptolemaios.” Tieria is still scowling at him and Neil sighs. “Come on, trust me a little, would ya?”

“I do trust you.” Despite his sullen tone he squeezes Neil’s hand, just a bit, and it’s enough.

So of course he proceeds to dip Tieria as deep as possible.

His reaction is priceless: there’s about a second of uncertainty that turns into wide-eyed fear and finally settles into anger. But he’s solid weight in Neil’s hand and Neil holds him securely in place, his expression no doubt smug. “I see your point,” Tieria concedes, and Neil can’t help but laugh and pull the man close to his chest once more.

It’s a while before they move and it’s slow when they do. Their feet barely move, so it’s more swaying around than dancing, but Neil will take it. He’ll take anything that leaves Tieria relaxed in his arms, face pressed against the curve of Neil’s neck. He’ll hold on to anything that isn’t them fighting for their lives and fighting each other all day, every day, leaving them tense and exhausted and empty. He’s determined to commit this to memory, all of it: the way Tieria’s breath ghosts against his skin, his warmth and softness despite all the other ways he comes off, the mournful singing drifting in and out of the world behind them.

What he isn’t expecting is for this to be the moment when he tells Tieria he loves him.  


Truth be told, Neil has never planned on saying it. He always imagined they were one of those couples that didn’t need to say it. They’ve never really needed words and Neil thinks they’re too cool to be cliché. But somehow the words bubble up and he can’t keep them down. He finds he doesn’t really want to, either. So the words come out quietly, his lips pressed against Tieria’s hair and single eye falling closed.

There’s a long silence before Tieria pulls back and Neil looks to see the critical gaze he’s no doubt getting. But instead Tieria looks fond, the smallest of smiles at the corner of his lips. “You’re lucky I feel the same or else I would have shot you the second you stepped back onto my ship.”

“You do realize you could have just said ‘I love you, too,’ right?”

“I prefer my response.”

Oddly enough, Neil does, too.

After that, they keep dancing, as if nothing has changed. Neil thinks it really hasn’t; after all, taking an actual bullet for someone does say “I love you” pretty clearly. It takes them an hour to master the waltz. At the end they’re sweaty and breathless and Tieria’s irritated he didn’t master it instantly. Neil takes one look at his face, scrunched up in annoyance, and knows he’s made the right choice.

“You’re not actually fantastic,” Tieria says, apparently tired of being eye candy. “But you’ll do.”

Neil dips him again and this time drops him in retaliation. Tieria responds by grabbing his leg and pulling Neil down beside him onto the filthy hotel carpet.

It’s romance at its finest.

**Author's Note:**

> A small present I made for myself because I love these two and dance fics and I had horrible writer's block. Enjoy! (Also, the title comes from The Civil Wars' song of the same name if anyone is wondering)


End file.
